


my dearly departed.

by ansutazu



Category: Ensemble Stars! (Video Game)
Genre: Angst, Hanahaki AU, M/M, this has me sadder than my last hanahaki au lol
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-19
Updated: 2017-06-19
Packaged: 2018-11-15 22:56:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,909
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11241012
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ansutazu/pseuds/ansutazu
Summary: i crossed my heart but i stuttered too, still right beside you in sickness and health, toast what could have been. // eimugi hanahaki au, one-shot. implied keichi. second-years (magicians assemble era).





	my dearly departed.

Tsumugi keeps multiple charms with him at all times — on his school bag, in his pockets, toyed within the confines of his hands — as a side effect of a lineage infected with an extravagant affinity for fortune telling, of good luck and bad luck and any luck in between influencing the day to day activities of that _laissez-faire_ family.

Most days, his attire is littered with charms of good luck and good fortune — without them, he’d fail to do even the most basic of committee work, and he’d most certainly fail to keep up with his idol activities in ‘fine’. A untied shoe lace, a misstep in the choreography, forgetting the lyrics — ah, just thinking about it was simply embarrassing.

And so good luck charms swarmed Tsumugi’s very being, but there was one charm in particular that stood out to Eichi when he took a glimpse at the bundle of good fortunes Tsumugi played with in his hands, trying to untangle them from one another, a glaring pink amongst red and yellow and orange and gold.

“What’s this one?” Eichi pokes at the charm, and Tsumugi jumps in his seat from the sheer surprise, his heart practically leaping out of his chest as the blonde looms over him, a little too close for his comfort, a little too close for his liking, a little too close for a boy whose heart now twisted in some unexplainable way at the close proximity of the blonde. “I haven’t seen this particular charm before — is it a new one, Tsumugi? Ah, it says…oh, it’s a charm for ‘love’. Tsumugi, are you…?”

“That’s…” He looks to the side, the second-year flushed with a bittersweet mix of embarrassment and disappointment, gulping down that _disgusting_ , that _unpleasant_ concoctions of tastes and feelings down his unwilling throat. He turns to the blonde again, a smile feigned with innocence and happiness, of what would be a lot more genuine had it not been for the knowledge he gained that morning at his home’s bathroom, hunched over the toilet with new revelations, with unparalleled sadness at what was beginning to destroy his body. “Aha…yeah, but I bet it’s a little strange to be carrying it around. Well, I’m rather ‘unlucky’ after all…so something like this feels essential. Though…it’s quite childish for an idol, isn’t it?”

“Not at all — you seem like someone who would do something like this. Fufu, so even Tsumugi can fall in love…well, whoever they are, they’ve got quite a strange catch, don’t they? Ah, that sounds mean — sorry, but to have you pining over them seems like it’ll be interesting. Hmm, I’m not quite sure what else to say for this, since Hiyori goes after every girl that I’ve lost my touch with such things…but, for you, I hope it goes well. Someone who worries like you — well, you have your own set of charm points, after all.”

“Mm…I hope so, too. Thank you, Eichi-kun.”

But it can’t. He knows his love can’t end well. It’ll end bitterly, it’ll end sadly, it'll end in a pain he can’t fathom, but he’ll bear it, he’ll bear it because he knows that there was no use to terminate such feelings that were already deeply rooted in him, feelings that not even good luck charms could lift up. It’s not like they can afford it, anyway — ah, it already felt he was too far gone, he doesn’t want anyone to helplessly try and save him.

That morning, red rose petals speckled with blood floated atop the toilet’s water, mocking and jeering and teasing him for his utmost foolishness in falling in love with the emperor.

* * *

Those flowers were painful reminders of his one-sided love, red roses and daffodils and primroses and sweet peas littering his lap during his classes as he silently coughs so as not to disturb the classroom setting, swept carelessly into his bag when classmates decide to engage in a conversation with him, the agony masked with that usual carelessness he exhibits, which, for the most part, he still possesses.

He has no choice but to put up with it — he already decided that he’ll try his best in trying to contain it, because to say that he developed the hanahaki disease to his parents…they’d just shrug, throw fortunes at him, and hope for the best. And to tell his object of unrequited affection, to tell the leader of ‘fine’ that he can’t continue — it’d be quite cowardly, it seems, and despite knowing that his feelings will go unnoticed and unreciprocated, he still had it in him to aid Eichi in his desires to purify Yumenosaki, to polish it and have idols shine brightly on stage once again — at least, that’s what Eichi’s elaborate and glittering words and plans sounded to him, who could barely make sense of them. If anything, his princely and elegant and _strong_ voice made those sentences flow nicely, it made those notions sound _beautiful_.

But it hurts, it really does, and he knows Eichi won’t feel the same way because he sees who’s existence resides in Eichi’s weak heart, he sees who’s existence makes Eichi feel the same way as Tsumugi, albeit happier, he hopes — for if he cannot have his own share of happiness, he hopes that the emperor gets there someday, that his life isn’t shortened by those flowers clogging his lungs and suffocating him everyday.

He sees them bicker, he sees them quarrel — the vice president sighs when Eichi approaches him, tells him that to walk around with him would only make his health deteriorate. Eichi laughs — he doesn’t laugh like that around him, it’s a special one just for the boy next to him. He sees how his cheeks are dusted with slight pink when the vice president pats his head, how the emperor wavers when the vice president makes it seem as if the strain in their friendship was slowly easing, how the emperor simply weakens when they talk face to face, missing him all the more when he departs to do student council work.

And him, the vice president — he seems to ease up just the same, seems to show how much he seems to revel in the emperor’s return to his side. Yet he exhibits the same stubbornness, the same strictness as always, telling him with a scoff that there’s still so much work to be done — and when he leaves, he adjusts his glasses, mutters how helpless his childhood friend is, thinks to himself that he’s glad to have him back (this thought is never voiced out loud, but by the way his face softens, it’s so obvious, so painfully obvious that he does not mind the blonde’s company at all).

Tsumugi sees all of this, and from inside of him, those flowers squeeze and pierce his lungs, his heart pricked with thorns and heartache.

But he must bear the pain, just like always, and he grips his charms with his fortunes slipping away.

* * *

“YOU.”

Tsumugi coughs again, hacking up petals of sweet peas and daffodils as he drops several books onto the floor, the noise resonating throughout the old archives and disturbing Natsume’s long-lost peace. The first-year strides over to the second-year, hands behind his back as Tsumugi fumbles in trying to pick up the books, good luck charms spilling out of his pocket as he continues to cough.

“You sound TERRIBLE,” Natsume states, looking down at the second-year as he hunches over, coughing more and more. Rose petals come out of his mouth, clots of blood mingling with with the petals’ red color, standing out from the previous petals. He can’t breathe, he can’t quite catch his breath — ah, but he continues to do his committee work, looks up at Natsume and gives him a small smile. 

“There’s not much I can do about that, Natsume-kun. Ah, but I’m sorry for making such a racket in the archives — I’ll just be in here for a little longer, so — ”

He coughs once more, louder and grittier than the last, and a bouquet of rose petals fall out of his mouth, the blood painting already-red roses an even deeper shade of such an unsightly color.

“That disgusting GUY.” Natsume shakes his head, although he doesn’t stoop down to meet his level. He crosses his arms, finding Tsumugi’s weak smile to be quite the eyesore — it was pitiful, how he let himself hurt like this just because he doesn’t want to raise a hand, doesn’t want to cause too much trouble when he was already trouble just making a _mess_ in the archive. “What do you see in him, ANYWAY? When he’s out here, changing the school to his whims…”

“That much I can’t help, either,” Tsumugi replies, and he wonders — why _does_ he love him? He wants to believe that he was entranced by those captivating words Eichi kept spewing, how Eichi talks to him more than the other ‘fine’ members, how their friendship was something of a treasure to him and how it was different from any other connection he’d felt before, how Eichi called him “interesting” that day at the hospital — he was truly charming… “Mm, but it really is messing with my practice at ‘fine’, now. Eichi says he understands the feeling, but…”

“I doubt that guy has any feelings at ALL.”

“Ah, you’d be surprised.” 

“STILL.” Natsume pauses, glaring at Tsumugi as slowly straightens himself up with a smile, mouth pouting at his annoying weakness. “Out of all people — you don’t deserve THIS.”

* * *

“Tsumugi — ah, are you heading home?”

“Eichi-kun…” Tsumugi presses on a smile, gritting his teeth so that the flowers that threatened to push their way out of his mouth do not come spilling out, so that the flowers do not betray his vow to secrecy in terms of his feelings. The sun dips in the hills before them, the sky colored an even prettier red that those rose petals that fall out of his mouth. “Why are you leaving this late? We didn’t have practice today…”

“Ah, since I was elected student council president, I’ve been wanting to do student council work, but Keito” — _it hurts_ , he says, feeling his heart twist in pain — “keeps telling me to leave it to him…however, I managed to get him to let me stick around today. It was rather convenient that we didn’t have practice, but…Tsumugi, will you be okay for the next ones? You’ve been coughing a lot. Did you catch a cold? Don’t tell me…do you not have a charm for ‘good health’ or something?”

“Aha…rather, you could use something like that, Eichi-kun.” Feigned happiness sticks in his throat, it’s so prickly, it’s so painful — at this point, he won’t be able to sing properly, he’d only weigh ‘fine’ down. “Don’t worry — whatever this is, it’ll pass.”

“Tsumugi, I know how — ”

“Yours is way more serious than whatever small virus I have — trust me, I’ll feel better soon!”

He knows, he knows _very_ well that it’ll end up killing him — how funny it is to see Eichi outlive him, but at least he gets to see his future. That’s what he hopes.

* * *

He drops his books again, coughs again, tries to pick them up once more. However, he stays on his knees, and when Natsume spots the ‘hanahaki boy’ from the corner of his vision, his eyebrow raises, and he walks on over to where he was again, being careful not to step on the books sprawled about.

“Hey, TSUMUGI.”

Silence.

“HEY.”

“Sorry…” Tsumugi whispers, voice raspy as his coughs send him doubling over, clutching his stomach. It hurts, it hurts, it hurts — it felt as if his chest was ripping itself to pieces, his lungs completely full of flowers and blocking what seemed like every airway and means of breathing, his heart shrieking in unbelievable pain as he, at least, sets down the books gently before his head lands on the floor, groaning as full on _flowers_ fall out his mouth, as he gasps for what air he can’t possibly take in as the flowers continue to push against his lungs and chest. “S…”

“NO. You’re…ah, lie DOWN. Roll around and lie down on your back — actually, at least keep your head UP. I’ll…”

Tsumugi rolls onto his back, doing as the first-year instructed — ah, what a lousy upperclassman he was, but as more and more flowers fell out of his mouth, he could only wheeze and hope for the best, hope that his passing — it seems as if it was now, surrounded by books and Natsume’s creations — eases this pain soon enough.

Even in the end, he loved Eichi — painful, but at least the feeling was there.

Natsume stalks away, hands balled into fists and nails digging into his hand. Under his breath, he mutters, “This is PITIFUL.”

* * *

“Hey, you damn EMPEROR.”

Natsume grabs the second-year by the cuff of his uniform, and Eichi turns around, a little bewildered at the first-year’s yell. Eichi’s shoe locker remains open, indoor shoes still on despite getting ready to leave.

“You’re…?”

“Aren’t you DYING?” Natsume asks, looking at Eichi with such an intense stare that the second-year can’t quite look away, staring back intently as if entranced by some sort of casted spell. “You should know very well what death looks like…yet you can’t realize that your ‘friend’ is dying as WELL? Are you CLUELESS? Or are you just SELFISH?”

“What are you — ”

“Tsumugi — he’s got that damn flower DISEASE. Tell me, did you choose to remain oblivious to IT? If so, you’re one terrible guy to let someone like him suffer like THAT.”

* * *

“Tsumugi…”

“E — Eichi-kun.”

Eichi sits down next to him, puts his hand on top of Tsumugi’s head — and it hurts Tsumugi, it hurts that he won’t even hold his hand even now. Natsume waits outside, head hanging low and eyebrows furrowed at the very interaction happening in such a sacred place. But — just this once, he’ll make an exception and let it pass, the fact that such an emperor dares to tread in his territory.

Daffodil and red roses were left scattered around Tsumugi, those flowers once in full bloom already wilting along with his body and his heart, the real world seemingly too much for flowers born out of a painful love. It makes sense, but Tsumugi realizes that wasting such energy on that would make this moment pass faster — he has to make each breath count, to the very end.

“Hanahaki…why’d you keep brushing it off?” Eichi’s voice was littered with slight anger, and he holds up Tsumugi’s head now as he coughs, and a rose falls out of his mouth. “If you told me sooner, I could have rushed you to the hospital — something, instead of letting it get _this_ bad. You’re a member of ‘fine’, too, did you forget that? It’s not ‘fine’ if it’s not with you — we’re ‘friends’, aren’t we? So why…”

For the first time, he was ‘confused’.

“These were for you, you know.”

“Roses…” Eichi looks at the red rose covered in blood — he picks it up, inspects at how brutal his obliviousness had been. In that moment the damage sinks in, it sinks in deep and harshly — and his heart writhes in unknown pain, in a moment of absolute _guilt_ and _regret_. “Tsumugi, even if I can’t exactly say the same, I still would have done something for you. You know that.”

“There’s not much you can do, Eichi-kun — I chose to suffer like this.” Tsumugi tries to laugh, but daffodils explode out of his mouth as he wheezes, as he feels his time slipping away. It was time, it was time — he felt it, but he had to say a few more words. Instead, he offers a smile, and Eichi’s face twists in…actual _sadness_ , in frustration and confusion and a lingering _sadness_ , his heart moved by his…his ‘friend’s’ condition.

Good luck charms were long discarded, strewn about just like the flowers that now decorated Tsumugi’s ‘death bed’. Eichi keeps his head up — he does not cry, he does not seem close to crying, but he was so obviously _moved_  — no longer brushing off the condition Tsumugi was in, angry that he didn’t pry into Tsumugi’s words more, trusting he was actually alright… a mix of ‘emotions’, that’s what he was,  and he remembers the feeling of ‘turmoil’.

“You’re lucky, Eichi-kun…when you die, there’s going to be a lot of people mourning for you. For me, I just get the archives…well, even at home, I’d just be an annoying corpse in the way. However…please don’t die just yet, alright? You’re going to live a long life…I l…”

And he coughs one last time, this time revealing white lilies before he takes his last breath, before he stares at Eichi with dead hazel eyes.

Eichi was always so close to death, he was no longer bothered by the very idea.

But holding Tsumugi’s dead body in his arms, the white lilies signaling his end — it was actually _sad_. He felt _sad_. It was new, and it was painful, and he wishes that he helped…that he helped his ‘friend’ out, in some way or another.

So this was that horrible ‘regret’. This was that bitter ‘guilt’.

He sighs, and he closes Tsumugi’s eyes.

“Thank you for all you’ve done, my dearly departed friend.”

**Author's Note:**

> eimugi and magicians assemble


End file.
